


The Hang of Things

by fuzipenguin



Series: Trending on the Edge [19]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Bukakke, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Other, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Twincest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: It's only their second session as a quintent and Sunstreaker is still learning where he fits in





	The Hang of Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracoqueen22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/gifts).



> Just a quick summary of the relationships: Ratchet trained Bluestreak in the ways of BDSM; both are doms. Bluestreak started up a relationship with the twins, discovering that Sunstreaker loved subbing while Sideswipe was much more of a dom as well. Once trained, they and Bluestreak parted ways, only for Bluestreak to take up with Jazz (also a sub) a while later. Bluestreak loans Jazz out to the twins on occasion and Ratchet floats around as well.

               “Hi.”

                Sunstreaker startled, tearing his gaze away from the bodies in front of him to look up at the mech standing next to him. Apparently Sunstreaker had been so focused on the other participants in tonight’s activities that he hadn’t even noticed Bluestreak enter the room.

                The sniper looked as if he had come directly from the washracks after his patrol. There wasn’t a smudge of dirt on him although Sunstreaker absently noted multiple defects in his wax job. Bluestreak obviously didn’t care enough to do any touchups before coming here.

                A low moan made Sunstreaker look back at the berth. He licked his lips at seeing Sideswipe hefting Jazz up onto his knees to better stroke his bared valve. Ratchet had a tight grip on Jazz’s head, keeping him still as Ratchet gently fed his spike into Jazz’s mouth.

                …then again, if Sunstreaker had been in Bluestreak’s tires, knowing he was coming back to _this_ after getting off shift, Sunstreaker probably wouldn’t have wasted time on the minute details of his appearance either.

                “May I sit?”

                Out of the corner of his optic, Sunstreaker saw Bluestreak gesture to the open space on the couch. Sunstreaker shrugged nonchalantly and made a ‘feel free’ gesture. Inwardly however, he wordlessly tugged on his bond with Sideswipe.

                His brother immediately pulsed back a calming wave of emotion, proving Sideswipe at least, had noted Bluestreak’s entrance. _He knows the rules._

There weren’t many. It was no holds barred for Jazz. Anyone could do pretty much anything to him at any time. It was the whole point of the scene. For him to be used as the others pleased.

                Sunstreaker hadn’t thought he would be comfortable enough to participate, although he was definitely allowed to do so. He had also stood firm on the mandate that no one touch him unless he specifically asked for it. Except for Sideswipe. But even Sideswipe was supposed to hold off from anything more than kisses and cuddles.

                The couch dipped slightly under Bluestreak’s weight, and Sunstreaker surreptitiously shifted away from the other mech. Bluestreak gave no outward sign that he noticed; he merely leaned back and let his hands rest in his lap.

                “Enjoying the show?” Bluestreak asked after a minute.

                Sunstreaker raised an orbital ridge as he turned to look incredulously at Bluestreak. “I’d have to be dead not to.”

                Jazz was gorgeous on a regular day. Here, open and eager and dripping, he was downright sinful. Combine that with Ratchet and Sideswipe’s confident manipulation of Jazz’s frame, and Sunstreaker was practically melting in his own armor.

                “You can indulge yourself, you know,” Bluestreak said, meaningfully dropping his gaze to Sunstreaker’s lap before meeting his optics again.

                “I know,” Sunstreaker replied, shifting uncomfortably.

                As the main member of the audience, Sunstreaker was allowed to touch himself and bring himself to overload as many times as he wanted. Yet his panels were currently still in place. It wasn’t that he was unaroused. Completely the opposite in fact. But this was only their second group session. And the first without Sideswipe right by his side. It was somewhat nerve-wracking.

                Sideswipe gave him another reassuring pulse in response to Sunstreaker’s spike in anxiety. It reminded him that even though Sideswipe was across the room, sticking his fingers in a valve other than Sunstreaker’s, he was still continually assessing Sunstreaker’s needs.

                For some reason, that was even hotter than the scene in front of him.

                “Is there anything I could do for you?” Bluestreak asked softly, gesturing at the cube of high grade Sunstreaker had clutched in one hand. It was still half full, Sunstreaker too jittery to truly appreciate the contents.

                “I’m fine,” Sunstreaker snapped, his uncertainty of Bluestreak’s intentions making him reflexively abrasive. “Why don’t you go see to him?” Sunstreaker added, nodding in Jazz’s direction.

                He was moaning near continuously, the sounds muffled around his mouthful. Ratchet was pumping his hips in a fast rhythm, thick red spike disappearing completely into Jazz’s intake again and again. The saboteur’s lips were stretched wide, a mix of oral lubricant and pre-fluid trickling down his chin. His hands practically kneaded the decking, hips dancing as Sideswipe worked his fingers in Jazz’s valve. Deep as they were, Sideswipe was probably rubbing Jazz’s ceiling node, building the smaller mech to another overload.

                It would be his third beneath Ratchet’s and Sideswipe’s ministrations. Sunstreaker was honestly a little surprised Bluestreak hadn’t immediately started participating as soon as he had walked in. Sunstreaker rarely felt comfortable with mechs other than his twin touching him and on top of that, Sideswipe could get deeply possessive over him. But apparently Bluestreak was more open to sharing. Well, whatever worked for him and Jazz.   

                “I think he’s being seen to very well,” Bluestreak remarked, lips curving up in the corners as he surveyed his partner. “Sideswipe and Ratchet are both experienced, as you know.”

                Sunstreaker felt his flame flush with heat. About a week ago, it had been himself in nearly the same position as Jazz was in now. Except it had been Ratchet’s fingers playing with Sunstreaker’s array… and everything he had ever heard about medics’ hands had been proven true.

                “Yeah, but you know him best,” Sunstreaker replied, unconsciously licking his lips at the memory.

                Bluestreak nodded, but still didn’t make any move to join the threesome. “I do. In fact, I know he’s about to overload, so don’t look away.”

                Sunstreaker rolled his optics even as he kept his gaze focused on Jazz. It was obvious the saboteur was nearing his climax. He was practically vibrating, pelvis rocking as he rode Sideswipe’s fingers.

                Jazz wasn’t the only one about to hit his peak. Ratchet was moving with a single-minded intensity as he ruthlessly used Jazz’s mouth. After a half dozen more thrusts, he abruptly drew back and furiously stroked his spike over Jazz’s open mouth, stripes of transfluid landing on his cheeks and swollen lips. Jazz groaned, shoving back against Sideswipe’s fingers as his body shook through his own overload, sparks racing across his flared plating.

                “Much better,” Ratchet sighed, his hand gradually slowing to a lazy fondle of his equipment. “You look good marked up. Leave it,” the medic instructed as Jazz’s glossa flicked out to lick up the spill on his lips.

                “Yes, sir,” Jazz said faintly, swaying in place from the aftershocks of his overload. Sideswipe gripped Jazz’s hip to keep him steady and glanced over at Sunstreaker. He winked, grinning cheerfully.

                “He’s so pretty when he comes, isn’t he, Sunny?” Sideswipe asked, withdrawing his fingers only to swat Jazz on the aft. “Anything you want to see?”

                “Whatever you want,” Sunstreaker replied truthfully. They had borrowed Jazz several times in the past; both he and Sunstreaker had learned a lot from one another, and it was hot as the Pit watching Sideswipe work with the smaller mech. Sideswipe wasn’t just able to read Sunstreaker due to their shared spark; he was just that good of a dominant. Or at least that was Sunstreaker’s opinion.

                “Hmm. That’s not helpful; I want a lot. Blue? Any input?” Sideswipe asked, turning his attention over to Bluestreak. Sideswipe’s hand continued to absently pet at Jazz’s valve while Ratchet shifted backwards and released Jazz’s head. Once free, Jazz dropped down to his forearms, practically shoving his interface array against Sideswipe’s hand.

                “He’s quite good at servicing both spike and valve, as Ratchet can attest to,” Bluestreak, replied. Ratchet grunted an amused affirmative.

                “Seems to enjoy it quite a bit too,” Sideswipe commented, lightly slapping Jazz’s valve, making him cry out and wriggle encouragingly. “And that’s just no fun. Tell me, Jazz – how does your master punish you when you’re bad?”

                “There… there are so many ways, sir,” Jazz warbled, forehelm resting on the decking.

                “I know I’ve seen him licking pedes,” Ratchet offered. He pushed himself to his feet with a creak of his joints and slid one foot forward to nudge Jazz’s closest arm. “Isn’t that right, slave?”

                Sunstreaker flinched before he could control the reaction. Sideswipe barely tolerated the word ‘master’ in his and Sunstreaker’s scenes, and he’d outright forbidden either of them saying ‘slave’ as one of his hard limits. But as long as it applied to Jazz alone, Sideswipe had been willing to ignore the word being used by others.

                Jazz’s head rose up and he nodded at the medic. “Yes, sir. Would ya care to sit while I lick your feet clean?”

                Ratchet leaned over and snagged the desk chair, sliding it over and settling onto it. He spread his legs wide and gently stroked his already re-pressurising spike. “I think that would be a good use of your time. Sideswipe – why don’t you show our friend here what real talent is?”

                Sideswipe grinned before bending over and licking up Jazz’s valve with one broad stroke of his glossa. His hands clamped down on Jazz’s hips as the smaller mech jolted forward in surprise “Can do. And no overloading until I say so, Jazz. I wanna see how long you can hold out for.”

                Overload denial was one of Sideswipe’s favorites. He loved to watch Sunstreaker squirm and beg for release. It would be a nice change to watch someone else’s overload be delayed.

                “You might be surprised,” Bluestreak said, pushing himself to his feet. His doorwings gently waved in a stretch.  

                “Good. I love a challenge,” Sideswipe murmured, licking his lips. “Gonna join us?”

                “If Ratchet would be willing to loan me his spike.” Bluestreak took a few steps forward, his panels sliding aside with a soft click. Sunstreaker watched him walk away, spying a glistening dampness between his thighs.

                 “Always, little Blue,” Ratchet said, holding out a hand to Bluestreak. He helped Bluestreak straddle Ratchet’s lap as Jazz began licking the tip of Ratchet’s pede. The saboteur awkwardly tilted his head to the side and Sunstreaker realized Jazz was staring directly up at Bluestreak’s valve as he lowered himself onto Ratchet’s spike.

                 What a view. Sunstreaker was a little envious, to be honest. And even though he hadn’t really liked Bluestreak sitting so innocuously next to him, now that Sunstreaker was the only one on the couch, he was starting to feel a little alone.

 _Wanna come closer, Sunny?_ Sideswipe whispered into the back of Sunstreaker’s processor. _Maybe help me out a little?_ _Make him scream?_

                 Sideswipe had his face buried between Jazz’s legs and even from here Sunstreaker could hear the sound of his brother’s glossa lapping at Jazz’s wet valve. There wouldn’t be enough room for both of them considering how small Jazz was. But there might be just enough space for Sunstreaker to slide beneath Jazz’s belly and suck on the bobbing head of his spike. And Sunstreaker’d have the added bonus of being next to Sideswipe.

                 Sunstreaker pushed himself to the edge of the couch and then off it, landing on his hands and knees with a soft clatter of plating. He caught Ratchet staring down at him, mouth open a little as Bluestreak slowly rode him. Sunstreaker kept Ratchet’s gaze for half a sparkbeat before respectfully ducking his head. As he crawled across the room to Sideswipe, Sunstreaker purposively put a little extra sway into the motion of hips. Ratchet’s engine gave an interested rev, and Sunstreaker smiled to himself.

                 He had been a little uncertain about his place in this whole scenario, but he was starting to get a feel for things now.

                 Wreck Jazz. Seemed easy enough.

 

~ End


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